


Lie

by radvictoriam



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Angst, F/M, Sad, Smut, They were married, even Vulpes has to have a past goddamnit, i am definitely going to hell for this, i'm a profligate for writing this, it's complicated - Freeform, kind-of established relationship, kinda still are, they're from the same tribe okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 05:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13827639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radvictoriam/pseuds/radvictoriam
Summary: Courier Six claims she has lost her memories, but Vulpes knows that this is nothing but lies. After she "destroys" House's bunker for Caesar, he offers her a safe night's sleep at the Fort; for one night only.Naturally, the desert fox offers his own tent to the ever-helpful Courier...





	Lie

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this fic idea came from but I wanted to explore the possibility of Vulpes and Six being from the same tribe before the Legion ruined everything. 
> 
> This is purely self-indulgent. I decided to post it incase someone else liked it too - probably OOC but who cares, I tried.

The Courier is in Vulpes’ tent when he arrives; stripped out of her armour, perched on a series of blankets with a book in hand. Odd, how she can be so calm after destroying an entire bunker - radioactive, no less. Caesar’s teachings on women are not all he has ever known, but this warrior before him… it’s not how he remembers her.

She was never like this back home.

“It’s impolite to stare,” she snaps - but, even as she snarls at him, she’s holding her true anger back. He sees it in the fire of her eyes; the grind of her jaw. Her skin dances orange under torchlight; which plays with the blonde tones of her hair. My, but this woman is infuriating. It has been years since they saw one another. He thought her dead for so long - his feelings for her buried where she lay. But then she showed up in Nipton. Could’ve sworn it was a ghost; his past finally coming back to haunt him. The frumentarius clenches his hand, distracting himself from the tightness in his throat long enough to speak.

“It’s impolite to _lie_.”

Green eyes blink in surprise. Whatever the Courier expected him to say - this was not it. The shock is gone in seconds. Replaced with a hard scowl as she sets the book aside.

“Good job I don’t lie, then.”

“You lie _now_ ,” He spits, dropping the tent curtain shut behind him to go to her. “You lie when you claim to remember _nothing_. I see it. I see through you.”

“And how’s that?” She has the audacity to ask, arms folded and brows raised.

“If you had forgotten, you would not look upon me as you do.”

“How do I look upon you?”

Vulpes actually laughs, though the sound is mirthless. Cold. He takes yet another step closer, and the Courier scrambles to her feet. Body tensed as though ready to attack.

“As though you want to _kill me_.”

Silence floods the room as the haughtiness falls from her gaze; replaced with the exact look he accused her of. Hatred, burning hot and bright, juxtaposing with her former nature. Where he had always been rigid, she was soft and kind. When the Legion came, he was quick to join them - he understood that their Elders had lost their way. He endured where others did not - but he would have protected her. He swore he would. The tribe would not survive much longer. It was the surest way to _live_.

She had not been so understanding.

“Why do you insist on these lies?” He can sense that her resolve is crumbling - he _needs_ it to. “Summer, _please_ \--”

His head is snapped to the side with the force of her swing. The Courier’s fist connects with his cheekbone - not hard enough to split skin, but enough to leave him grunting in pain. It’ll certainly leave a bruise, at the very least. Cool eyes turn back to her, where she stands cradling her hand.

“Don’t you _dare_ speak my name! Don’t you-- you have no right!”

“You _lied_ ,” he growls, hating his own sense of satisfaction. It reminds him of  slaves being kept out of the sun for days; how they respond when they are let out of their shackles long enough to bathe in its heat.

“Yes - alright, is _that_ what you want to here? Why you volunteered your tent for the night? I lied. I remember. I remember _you_.”

Her admission is a bittersweet relief. After their tribe was taken, Vulpes was sure he was the only one remaining. The others had not been as ‘loyal’ as he was - choosing to flee got members slaughtered. The women were forced into slavery. He remembers that night. Remembers assuring her that it would be alright. That he would be the one to claim her. She would be safe with him; they would survive this.

“Why did you do it?” He breathes. Absently rubbing his cheek.

“Why did I lie? Or why did I run?”

“Both.”

She sighs - the exhale seems to take her remaining energy with it, for she slumps back onto her makeshift cushioning. He does the same, though he is much slower and more precarious.

“Asking why I ran is a foolish question. You know that. Any woman with half a mind would run from the Legion when they call. As for the lies,” she shakes her head, “I wanted to start over. Plus, it’s easier this way. You’d be surprised how little people ask about you when they realise you don’t remember anything. They get awkward and weird - forget that you still have a personality, just don’t recall how you came to be _you_... I really did forget, for a while. But the memories came back. Like putting puzzle pieces back into place. Still not sure if I remember _everything_ , but I remember enough.” Her expression turns sour again as she looks away from the flames to him, “I remember us. _”_

Well, he wanted her admission, but Vulpes never considered what he would do with it. He has not seen Summer since they were sixteen years of age… Eight years. Eight years since they had been promised to one another. The frumentarius inhales sharply - willing the thought away.

“Regret pushing for it yet?” She chuckles softly; reading him as easily as she had that book. “C’mon, isn’t this what you wanted?” Vulpes ignores her, but she is not deterred. Tender fingers on his cheek soon wipe the anger in his gaze. “I shouldn’t have hit you. You deserved it, but it was wrong all the same.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles. Vulpes needs to tell her to back away - leave him his space. To _not_ touch him. Yet, here they are. Hidden away with nothing but firelight as their witness.

Much like old times.

“I didn’t remember you at our first meeting,” she admits, “it wasn’t until later that I realised. Your voice would give you away anywhere - hiding under that wolf hat and deep shades, but I knew it was you. Confirmed it earlier, in Caesar’s tent… You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Summer--”

“ _Six_ ,” She hisses, eyes squeezing shut. As though just speaking her name causes great pain. “Please. It’s Six, now. As you are Vulpes, I am Six.”

“Six,” he tests the name. He doesn’t like it. “I did not… I never meant to cause you harm. Things are different now; much different. But I had to tell you. When we were told that those who fled had been killed… I was distraught for weeks,” his eyes take on a desperate look as he presses his palm against her hand. Holding it in place. When he speaks again, his voice is a whisper: “how did you escape?”

“I knew of many hiding places,” she says, eyes gleaming as a smile toys at her lips. “They proved more helpful than I could’ve known, in the end. I was terrified all the way here - not just of enslavement, but what if I was recognised? Lucky for me, Caesar is not so caring about those whose lives he destroyed years ago.”

“Do not do this,” Vulpes warns - drawing back. Dropping his hand from hers. “Much time has passed, Six. My allegiances have changed. I will not have you speak ill of our leader. I cannot.”

“I know,” her voice is as sad as the look in her eyes. Defeated, but accepting. “You thought it was for the best then - of course you feel this way now. But, surely, you get why I don’t share your sentiment?”

Vulpes says nothing, but he does allow a slight nod of acceptance. The tension leaves her shoulders, so she must have caught it. With a newfound understanding set in place, Six allows herself to take in his appearance. His dark hair is cropped short; skin weathered from the sun and battle. He’s grown stronger since their teenage years - which can be put down to relentless training and untold destruction. He had never been a fighter, but he had wanted to be. He got his wish, but his talents had always been with scouting.

She’s just as beautiful as she had been, back then. She too wears the scars of any traveller of the wastes, but they suit her. Blonde hair is worn in a single braid down her back, kept out of her heart-shaped face. And those eyes - as green as the cacti adorning the dessert. More a blessing now than they had ever been. She’s alive. She’s _here_. Vulpes wants to care that she may betray their cause, but he cannot. Cannot bring himself to condemn the woman he once loved.

“I’m yet to thank you for your hospitality,” She is blushing; tucking away strands of hair that are not present, eyes cast to the fire, away from his. “I was worried about what would happen, if I stayed out there. A slave told me that some of your men had been talking of ‘trying me out.’”

“Something tells me that such a move would end poorly for them,” he smiles, seeming proud. “You have grown strong over the years; a true force to be reckoned with.”

“True enough,” Six smirks back, “but thank you, all the same. It saves me the exertion, if anything else.”

“You’re most welcome.”

She gets up, after that, and Vulpes finds he does not have the energy to follow. Too caught up in what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. But Six returns moments later; kneels in front of him with a cool, damp cloth to wipe at his hurt cheek. He hisses as she presses the fabric to his skin.

“Would other legionnaires get such treatment?”

“I won’t tell you of the treatment they get,” She speaks coldly; it’s enough to fight back a shiver as it climbs up his spine.

Once she has bored of his cheek, Six casts the cloth aside - but stays where she is, inches away. Those eyes fall to study his armour, but the expression she wears is not of disgust. No. She’s _curious_. Her hands rise from her lap to trace his shoulder pads and, suddenly, Vulpes finds it somewhat harder to breathe. When she looks up again, she’s silently asking for permission. A slight nod is all it takes; she begins unstrapping the garment, and there’s no way of stopping the embarrassing heat pooling below.

“I took our vows seriously, even afterwards,” she whispers, slipping her palms over his shirt - down past the sleeves, leaving gooseflesh on his skin. “I have been with no one else.”

“As did I,” He almost chokes. Since realising she was alive, he had tortured himself by wondering if she had broken their promise. Six looks positively gobsmacked by this. In a life surrounded by slaves at his mercy, she had been certain that Vulpes would have taken what he wanted. But to hear he hasn’t… That he has never…

The kiss she bestows on him is full of hunger, and he groans in a mix of surprise and glee. She’s soft as ever, but far from slow. Teeth nip at his lower lip. It’s been so long. So, so long. Vulpes grabs curved hips and yanks her into his lap, unable to help himself; almost whining as she brushes against him. Hands that handle weapons with expert precision wander to the hem of his shirt, now, and he draws back enough to help her get rid of it. The way those hands feel as they roam his chest… He’s a mess in mere seconds; fumbling with the buttons of her plaid shirt, dying to trace every cut and scrape she’s tallied up over the years.

“Wait,” Six’s voice is positively _dripping_ with need, but the legionnaire pauses at the final button - lets her draw back slightly. Those wandering hands of hers come to cup his cheeks. “We need to talk. We can’t just… y’know…”

“No,” he nods. She’s right. It has been eight long, lonely years. Much has changed… But Six is breathless. Flushed with colour. Eyeing him like she’s a prospector who hasn’t seen water for days. Warm and wanton in his lap.

He is being dragged back into a kiss before he knows it, so he flips their position - sprawling her out on the floor beneath him. Her palm slips down to begin fighting her belt buckle, whilst the other glues itself to the back of Vulpes' neck: locking him in place. the frumentarius is hardly complaining. He hasn’t felt so alive in… Well, far longer than he can recall. Summer is real and wanton and _here_.

Hot breath fans across Six’s breasts, and she growls - low and throaty. It’s soon followed by gentle flicks of his silver tongue as soft, teasing pinches make sure the other isn’t left out. The good-but-not-enough shockwaves of pleasure have the Courier arching her back, and Vulpes uses it as an opportunity to pull the tie from her hair. Women in their tribe would not cut their hair until birthing their first child. Six’s hair falls down passed her rear, when it is not twisted into that braid. _Beautiful_. His fingers trail through those impossibly long locks; providing a perfect distraction. Before Vulpes can register what’s happening, Six has flipped them over. But he doesn’t care. He can see her better from this angle. The flush running down into her neck, the way her breasts bounce as she grinds down against him. The hair that tumbles over her shoulders, kissing his hyper-sensitive skin; leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

“What about talking?” He asks, voice rushing into a grunt as he thrusts up against her. At that, her elbows buckle.

“Eight years - talking can wait.”

But, as they discard their underwear, Vulpes does halt the pace; choosing to lead her to his cot, lay her down and hover over her. Their kiss, though deep, is smooth as he trails his fingers through damp, molten heat. Six’s legs fall open automatically - short nails bite into his shoulders as he drags her juices to her clit, and the sounds she makes in response… He has to pause. To breathe. If he doesn’t, he’ll spill before they have so much as got to him entering her.

It’s good to hear a newly-lit fire crackling and hissing from somewhere outside; if not for that, passersby would certainly know what their head frumentarius was up to - and with whom. He has to hush her a number of times but, in the end, it takes Six burying her face in his collar to muffle her cries. Confident this will be enough, Vulpes brings his fingers to her entrance… And is shocked to find it so welcoming. He had suspected more resistance. Then again, it has been a _long_ time - if she is in his state of arousal, then it is not that surprising at all.

He still remembers the exact moot point buried within that makes her toes curl, and the realisation makes her sob. Deft fingers work on hitting it each time - picking up and slowing down the pace as needed; curling against it, prolonging the white-hot delight that buzzes through her with each stroke. In mere minutes, she is a howling mess - sloppy kisses mute the sounds as much as possible, but Vulpes is certain someone has heard.

But, right now, he cannot bring himself to care.

When her orgasm hits, Vulpes’ heart _aches_. He had forgotten how well completion suits her. Six’s head falls back - blonde hair draped everywhere, mouth wide in a delighted 'o’, chest rising as she wriggles - not sure whether it’s too much or if she is searching for more. Finally, as he begins to worry, she breathes again. Heavy pants fill the room, and she practically purrs when she speaks.

“So good,” she drawls, “but more.”

Vulpes does _not_ need to be asked twice.

With clearer heads, the duo would know that this is possibly the worst idea they’ve ever had. Perhaps if Vulpes had taken slaves, he would not be so foolish. Perhaps if Six had taken up offers on the Strip then she, too, would think twice about what they are about to do. But her promised man is above her once more; the man she loved more than anything, in simpler times. Simpler places. Neither should indulge, and yet they cannot resist.

“Please,” she whimpers. Though she just came the desperation has returned. Flames stoked by the lust clouding those eyes; like ice, piercingly blue. They’ve haunted her since the day she fled - Lord knows she will be haunted by them for many years to come. Vulpes bites at her shoulder as he pushes forward; unable to prevent a groan at the tight warmth enveloping where he needs her most. Once he is fully seated, he pauses. Her eyelids flutter; chest heaves and hands claw at his back. There’ll be marks for days to come. _Good_. Let him remember. Let him cast his eyes upon them whenever doubt sears his ravaged mind.

He wants to be gentle. Starts of as such, but Six presses her heels to his behind - pulling him in faster each time he rocks back. Remaining quiet seems positively impossible; but her tongue dances with his, keeping both of their cries trapped between them. With his quickened pace, her legs fold across his hips - and he can feel just how strong she has become. The sixteen year old who committed to this woman wants to indulge himself; tell her she is beautiful, that he will always love her, that he will do whatever it takes to keep her by his side. But that boy is dead. They know this - she knows this. It makes him wonder why she allowed this to happen. A better man may have stopped her; yet she gave herself to _him._

“I’ve dreamt about this for so long,” she breathes, then pauses to nibble at his ear. Knowing that this drives him wild; Six grins at his blasphemous grunt. “Whenever I was alone, I would think back to those times in the caves. We were so young. So in love. But I loved how you fucked me - I adored giving into you like that.”

“Please,” he gasps. Vulpes doesn’t know what he is begging for. Perhaps it’s a plea; the coil in his stomach is tightening with each thrust, and she meets them now. Skin slapping on skin melts into the still-hissing fire outside; slickened by sweat from their exertion. He lifts her hips to angle himself better - is able to keep her in place with his arm whilst using his free hand to find that sweet bundle of nerves. Six hiccups a gasp when he brushes over it - bites her lip as his fingers become insistent. Hard, circular motions match the harshness of his thrusts.

“Shit,” she whines; head falling back. A sight to behold. One of her hands falls away to clutch at his bedroll; to keep herself grounded. Anchored in place. Their lips meet once more. She chews at his lower lip, and the coil snaps.

He spills inside her, torn between panting and growling as he continues his thrusts and, with him throbbing inside her, Six tumbles on after him. She is sobbing into his mouth; fighting the urge to scream as she clamps down. Vulpes hisses, too sensitive, and pulls out of her - but deft fingers continue to circle her clit, drawing out the length of her second orgasm.

The frumentarius doesn’t realise he’s collapsed onto her until he feels small hands pushing his shoulder. He turns, as she commands it. Both of them are hot, panting messes. Unable to speak, nevermind _move_. Vulpes battles his body’s will to sleep. He cannot be discovered like this... His battle is clearly lost for, when he awakens, he has been cleaned - and a blanket has been tossed over his sleeping form.

The Courier, and her belongings, are nowhere to be seen. But the red welts on his back and the sated hum in his veins verify the night’s deeds.


End file.
